


Sketches (Flowers on the Barricade)

by Frenchibi



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Slow Build, and alterations to the actual plot, there'll be a lot of pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchibi/pseuds/Frenchibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two young girls from the country come to Paris in search of a bright future. They meet a curious but likeable group of high-spirited students on the brink of stirring up a revolution. The seeds of a shining new era are sowed and threaten to be trampled before they can bloom. Will flowers blossom on the barricade, or will it end up drenched in blood?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketches (Flowers on the Barricade)

**Author's Note:**

> This work is my baby. I've been trying out a new, more literary style, and it's very time-consuming so I won't be able to update frequently, but I'll do my best.  
> This chapter was up on my ff.net account but since I'm probably going to be more active here, I'm posting it here too.  
> I did/am doing a lot of research for this fic too, trying to keep it as accurate as possible, so bear with me because I'll be REALLY slow.  
> Thanks for reading though, I'm really passionate about this.

Prologue

 

_She looked around frantically, searching the vicinity for him, and at the same time not knowing whether she should be relieved or scared when she didn't see him. Did that mean he was alive, and had found shelter…? Or had she simply not found his body yet?_

_A horrible, creeping fear swept over her. She was afraid to find him – afraid to see his unmoving, cold body and to know for sure that there was no hope._

_"Enjolras!" she called. "… anyone! Is there anyone here who is still alive?"_

 

**Chapter 1 – Field of Hope**

 

_"I'm gonna paint you by numbers and color you in_

_If things go right we can frame it, and put you on a wall..."_ (Ed Sheeran – Lego House (lyrics))

 

1831, Paris

 

The afternoon sun shone warmly on the cobbled streets leading into the large city of Paris and the many carriages driving in and out of the main gate. The air was filled with the clatter of hooves, the pattering of the wheels on the ground and the sound of voices. The main road was busy, as it was every afternoon – people were walking across the streets, engaging in short conversations as they went, and the guards at the entrance of the gate were lazily watching the carriages roll by. It was a warm day at the end of March that followed several days of dull clouds and rain, so there were puddles at the side of the road – and every so often a small child would eagerly jump into one of these, resulting in wet clothes and a scolding from whichever adult accompanied them.

Elise Dupont observed this scenery from behind the window of the carriage she was sitting in, and she chuckled at the sight of a small boy earning an angry glare from an elderly woman as he splashed through the dirty water. It reminded her of the countless times she had driven her parents to madness by ignoring their well-meant rules and guidelines.

At the sound of her chuckle, her companion looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. Sitting opposite her was a young woman her age – in fact, their birthdays were only two months apart – , her hands folded over her plain green dress, and her lively green eyes looking at her with half-concealed amusement. She had tucked away most of her wild red curls into a bun at the back of her head, but several had come loose during the course of their journey and were now framing her face in a casual, windswept kind of way.

She now brushed one of these strands out of her face with mild impatience as she said:

"Seem familiar…?"

She was gesturing out the window at the boy, who had now been forced to bow his head to the woman and apologize, if rather reluctantly.

Elise grinned knowingly at her friend. They had grown up together in a small town several days away from Paris and had gotten themselves into trouble on numerous occasions similar to the one they had just witnessed.

"Definitely. But you would know as well, wouldn't you, Isabelle?"

Then she sighed, readjusting herself in her seat. "We have to get off soon. Did you bring the map, by the way…?”

Her companion, Isabelle, nodded and reached for the bag lying on the seat beside her and retrieving a sheet of paper.

"I did – though I'm not sure if this is going to be of any use to us. These instructions are very rough."

"It can't be helped," Elise said apologetically. "It's been a while since my parents last visited their friend in Paris, so they weren't able to tell me exactly where to go. But we have the address, we should be fine."

The carriage rattled further along the main road, until it came to a rather jerking stop at the entrance to a wide side street. The driver jumped down from his seat and opened the carriage door for them, holding his hand out to help them get off.

"Place Saint-Michel," he announced. "This is as far as I can take you. Enjoy your stay in Paris."

They exited the carriage onto the small square that was Place Saint-Michel. On one side it ended in the Pont Saint-Michel, a bridge that linked the Île de la Cité with the left shore of the Seine and had, until 1807, actually had houses built on it, which had then been torn down for safety reasons. The rest of the square lead into several smaller streets with rows of small shops and cafés, and also a couple of inns.

The driver had proceeded to lift the girls' heavy trunk off the roof, placing it on the pavement beside the vehicle.

The horse up front was making impatient noises, clacking its hooves against the ground. Elise looked at it sympathetically – they had come a long way, after all.

"Thank you very much."

She paid the driver and they watched him remount and navigate his carriage back into the busy street and out of sight.

"Well, then. Let's find your parents' friend's place – I'm actually quite tired already," Isabelle said, glancing down at the paper in her hand while adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

Elise nodded in agreement, reaching for the trunk. "Travelling is pretty tiring. I just hope it isn't too far - it ought to be somewhere around here."

The instructions from Elise's parents turned out to be relatively easy to follow, and it wasn't a long walk. They rounded a corner at the end of the road, and Elise, concentrating on the heavy trunk she was carrying, did not see the person walking towards them on the other side, and barely avoided a collision. She stopped in her tracks at the last moment, causing Isabelle to almost bump into her from behind.

The other person exclaimed in surprise, taking a step back. "Oh - I'm sorry!"

Isabelle had caught her friend's arm to prevent her from stumbling, and she steadied herself again.

"No – it was my fault. Please excuse me."

She looked up at the young man standing before them, smiling apologetically.

He was wearing a loose shirt and worker's trousers, his hair was disheveled and he was unshaven, but in a handsome way. His only load was a small gray bag slung over his shoulder.

Spotting the note in Isabelle's hand and eyeing the other girl's heavy luggage, he asked:

"...can I help you with that?"

Elise looked surprised. "Oh - it's alright, really-"

"You aren't from here, are you? I can help you find the place you're looking for. Think of it as an apology - I wasn't looking where I was going and almost ran you over."

He talked as if someone had taught him proper manners, but only partly succeeded or abandoned it halfway. It made him seem like a naughty schoolboy who hadn't quite grown up yet. It caused Elise, with this picture in mind, to smile again. Isabelle seemed to be thinking something along the same lines, for she stepped forwards to include herself in the conversation and accept his offer.

"We're looking for our friend's house," she explained. "It should be right along this road here...?"

She held out the slip of paper for him to see. "We would be very grateful to you if you could show us the way."

He quickly read the address, then nodded. "It's no problem. I know where it is."

Reaching out for Elise's trunk, he added: "You can let me take that. It must be heavy."

"Thank you very much." She smiled, handing it over to him.

He fell into step beside them, carrying his new load with apparent ease. He seemed happy to have found someone to talk to, for he continued asking questions as they walked, sounding truly interested.

"So you come from outside the city, I presume? Are you here on vacation, visiting your friend? Or planning to stay longer?"

He stopped himself with a short exclamation. "Oh, right, I haven't even introduced myself. The name's not that important, but you can call me Grantaire – I'm studying here in the city."

"I'm Elise Dupont," she started, an amused smile creeping across her face at his words. "Pleased to meet you." Then she looked over at her friend to wait for her to reply herself.

"Isabelle Chevalier. We are planning on staying and starting our training as nurses at the Hôtel-Dieu hospital. We come from a small village, about two days' travel from here."

Grantaire nodded as the rounded another corner. "I see - so have you been to the Hôtel-Dieu before? It isn't far from Place Saint-Michel. It's on l'île de la Cité, near Notre-Dame."

The girls shook their heads. "No," Isabelle confessed. "We should be able to find it, though - I hear it is a big place."

A grin stole across Grantaire's face. "If you like, I could show you the way - tomorrow, of course, after you have rested from your journey...?"

Both girls chuckled at this. "If it makes you happy, we will gladly accompany you," Elise replied, exchanging a glance with her friend. She grinned back at her and nodded.

"Well - here we are."

They had stopped in front of a small but pretty house in a row of beige terraced buildings on the left side of the street. It had flowers on its balcony and was surrounded by a generally comfortable atmosphere.

Grantaire set the trunk on the ground, then bowed down theatrically in front of the two girls. "It has been a pleasure. Would nine o'clock tomorrow be agreeable with you? I shall then escort you to the hospital."

This earned giggles from both of them, and his expression changed to that of a mischevious young boy who was proud of having succeeded in impressing someone. It gave him a very likeable appearance and loosened up the atmosphere.

"Of course. We would be honored."

They waved after him as he left, then proceeded to ring the doorbell.

Elise's parents' friend, an elderly lady whom they were to address as Mme Olivier, was a kind woman. She welcomed them warmly, repeatedly mentioning how wonderfully Elise had grown up since she had last seen her - which had been almost fifteen years ago - and showed them to the room they would be sharing. She then announced she would be preparing dinner, for it was already late in the afternoon, and left them to themselves.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Elise sighed audibly and pulled her travelling hat off her light brown hair, tossing it aside as she dropped down onto her bed.

Isabelle opened her bun, letting her shoulder-length red curls fall to her side before she, too, lay down on her bed, spreading her arms wide.

"Thank goodness – now we can get some rest," she said, turning her head in Elise's direction. Their beds were several feet apart, separated by two small cabinets for clothes and a table with two chairs. Isabelle could see her friend smiling back at her through a gap between the table's legs.

"Yes, finally. But I feel restless, too, somehow. Maybe it's the city's bustling air that's affecting me – but I can't wait to see more of it."

The red haired girl smirked. "Or perhaps it's our new acquaintance’s enthusiasm that's taken hold of you...?"

Elise turned back to face the ceiling, which was, like the walls, paneled with light wood. "He seemed nice enough - and funny, too."

Smiling Isabelle nodded. "Definitely. Perhaps we can ask him to give us a tour of the city tomorrow... but now" – and as she said this, she abruptly sat up on her bed, stretching out her legs – "we really ought to start unpacking."


End file.
